


Countdown

by varooooom



Category: Merlin (TV)
Genre: Canon Divergence, Fluff, M/M, Romance, Schmoop, Sex in Places People Should Probably Not Be Having Sex, Smut
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-11-01
Updated: 2013-11-01
Packaged: 2017-12-31 05:12:06
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,786
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1027625
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/varooooom/pseuds/varooooom
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Arthur wants to tell Merlin something.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Countdown

**Author's Note:**

> I was going to sleep! But then this happened instead. I meant for it to be more random porn but then it became strangely introspective and then it turned into a fix-it fic for Merlin never sitting at the Round Table and Lancelot having the shittiest death on the planet. Oops? 
> 
> This is super fluffy with a bit of sex mixed in, idek. The sick loopies made me do it.

"Arthur."

Merlin's voice shatters over those two syllables, a single word so familiar to his tongue but it _trembles_ now. It brings a wicked smile to the King's lips where they're pressed against Merlin's neck, carving his mark into pale skin so that everyone will know what they already know. Merlin is _his_ , indisputably; where Arthur in all his regalia belongs to Camelot and everything beneath him belongs to his people, Merlin is the singular thing that is solely _his_. His pride and his greed, gripping tight into his tunic and shaking in his arms.

" _Ar_ thur," he tries again, almost nearing a whine and this time, it earns a laugh. Merlin's legs must be aching by now, straddled as they are across Arthur's lap with the balls of his feet grounded against the cold stone floor of the throne room to support his weight. It's pitiable, truly, the poor thing, and Arthur give his sympathies by biting into the thick tendon of Merlin's neck. His third - fourth? - mark of the afternoon, and they have a wide open day ahead of them.

"You prat!" He beats a hand against Arthur's shoulder, but the loss of support to do so makes him slip further into Arthur's lap and Merlin _moans_ , withering. Arthur chuckles again, sliding a hand from Merlin's waist to the centre of his back, shielding him from the hard edge of the Table. The other braces against the curve of the wood, holding Merlin in place right where he wants him.

This is not what the Round was meant for but Arthur is King and Merlin is his. He is Merlin's. Arthur wants _everyone_ to know what they already know.

And so here they are, Merlin stripped naked and arched back over the table, Arthur fully clothed and seated in his chair directly parallel to his throne in the distance. His cock buried to the hilt in Merlin's arse, simply _holding_ Merlin there, keeping him still in Arthur's arms as he takes his time lavishing attention over his servant. The days have only grown longer since his coronation, it seems, and Arthur refuses to let the one that spends every day at his side slip past him. The throne takes so much time away from the people Arthur loves; he has vowed ( silently, internally, and he masks it with arrogance and entitlement when he demands Merlin spend the day with him ) to give time back, whenever there is even a moment to spare. Stolen kisses in the hallways, that extra hour late at night asking Merlin to resweep the hearth. Whatever it takes.

And today - today is just for them. Today is just Arthur and Merlin, as it was at the beginning, as it will be at the end. Today, Arthur takes Merlin slowly to give Merlin himself, to give back what was taken by his name. They have plenty of time to fuck each other into oblivion later. Right now, Arthur holds Merlin close and rocks gently up into his body, to the places where they fit together perfectly. Merlin moans and tries to roll his hips back down, but there's nowhere left to go. His noise of frustration echoes in the empty throne room and Arthur laughs, again, laughs as only Merlin makes him. 

"Arthur, _please_ ," he pleads finally, so Arthur kisses him in return. 

It's a gentle press, a soft sweep of their tongues together. Some of the tension melts from Merlin's body as he gives in to Arthur's lips, his hands slowly crawling from his tunic to wrap around his neck instead. Arthur uses the new leverage to cradle Merlin and pull them both upright into his seat, away from the table. The movement changes the angle of his cock inside Merlin's body, pressing in deeper and making Merlin hum into Arthur's mouth appreciatively, slender fingers curling into Arthur's hair.

They stay like that for some time, simply holding on tightly to stolen time, until Merlin gets impatient again and bounces himself in Arthur's lap once. His cock only slips an inch or two out before Merlin drops right back onto it, but it still pushes a rough exhale of laughter from Arthur's chest.

"Impatient."

" _Slow_."

" _Mer_ lin."

" _Ar_ thur." 

Merlin giggles at his own mockery, thinking himself terribly clever, and it's so ridiculously endearing that Arthur drops his forehead to the idiot's shoulder so he can hide his laughter between them. There, he can see Merlin's cock pressed between their bodies. It's gone half mast in the time they've spent _sitting_ , and Arthur spares a moment to consider it a shame before thumbing the slit idly. Merlin hisses, fingernails scraping against Arthur's scalp, so he does it again just for good measure.

"Do you know why we're here, Merlin?" he asks suddenly, the thought coming to him just as Merlin's length starts filling in his hand. Arthur looks up to find Merlin's eyes, and they narrow in suspicion. "Why we're here, at the Table instead of the throne."

"Because we already despoiled the throne before you were King and you've gotten lazy in your old age?"

His retort is so quick, so nonchalant without hesitation, that Arthur _barks_ once with laughter, head thrown back and shaking fondly side to side. Always disrespectful and bloody in _cor_ rigible; Arthur wants him no other way. Wants him exactly like this, exactly as they are.

"I am not _old_ , you little terror," he chides, punctuating 'old' by suddenly gripping beneath Merlin's arse and _lifting_ him up onto the Table, standing as he goes. Merlin falls back with a surprised yelp, hands shooting behind him for support on reflex. Arthur's cock slips out and his trousers fall awkwardly to his knees. He tuts and shakes his head; Merlin looks amusingly put out until Arthur takes the opportunity to strip entirely, clothes tossed unceremoniously in the general direction of where Merlin's were abandoned.

He resettles between Merlin's legs and hooks them up around his hips, pulling Merlin down to the edge of the Table. Merlin rolls his eyes at being "manhandled" as he calls it, but Arthur plants one hand beside his head on the Table and covers his body with his own, hovering over his lips to close off any room for argument.

"I want you here because it's where you belong," he murmurs against Merlin's lips, feels the sharp inhale of breath that follows. He smiles faintly, kisses him once and takes to trailing his lips across his cheek, rutting their cocks together slowly. "I want you here, and not the throne, because the throne belongs to Camelot. The throne seats one and demands another."

Guinevere is an incredible Queen, Arthur's most trusted advisor and his greatest friend. But they are not lovers and this, only the inner circle of the Round knows. Only they few, because the whole kingdom over knows Arthur loves Merlin and the one thing more impossible than marrying a servant is marrying a male servant. The demands and expectations of sovereignty are vast and many. Gwen has shared this burden for as long as Arthur has looked the other way when she leaves their shared chambers in the direction of Lancelot's. The only bitterness that remains is in hiding Merlin in the shadows, keeping him in his servant's garb and sneaking around like children misbehaving.

Merlin means more than the world. More than the throne and more than the kingdom, but both are within Arthur and he returns to himself at the start of every day with a weight on his shoulders and an emptiness in the space between his fingers where he winds Merlin's now, where he _belongs_. Bitterness, he thinks, is not being able to claim Merlin properly. But Merlin has never asked for more.

"The Table is not the throne," Arthur explains against his own marks on Merlin's neck, his free hand slipping between them both to rub at their joined cocks. Merlin gasps and buries his hand in Arthur's hair, keeping every word close. "The Table is justice, and equality, and above all else, it is love. It's where you belong, Merlin."

" _Arthur_ ," he whispers miserably; Arthur wipes it away with a kiss. Pushes it away by lining up his cock and returning to his place deep inside, bound together, deep, _deeper_. Merlin chokes on air.

"At my right hand as my sword." 

He thrusts harder, edging them both towards a completion that's been waiting for too long.

"At my left, as my shield."

His thighs slap the edge of the table, but he focuses on Merlin's gasps instead, on the pressure of his hand curling down upon his own.

"In my seat, as my heart."

" _Arthur_ , please -"

"The Table is you, Merlin," he silences him with a kiss, wraps his hand around Merlin's cock and pulls in time with his thrusts as Merlin sobs quietly between gasps. "And I am its humble servant. I serve you, I _live_ for you and everything you encompass."

Compassion. Bravery. Selflessness and devotion. Everything Arthur sees when he looks into Merlin's eyes and _wishes_ , the way he tries to now.

"Merlin. Look at me." Merlin shakes his head, eyelashes wet and lips trembling in an adorable frown. Arthur kisses the petulant downturn once, " _Mer_ lin," and he reluctantly obliges. His blue-blue eyes are darker than Arthur's, more like the oceans than the skies, and Arthur will blame this for how easily he drowns in them. Their own pools of water, especially glossed with tears as they are with Merlin looking entirely too tender, like this moment could shatter everything.

Arthur wonders if that would be a bad thing.

"You are everything good in this world," he says instead, or maybe _because_ , because he wants Merlin to know it before he's lost to the depths of the water. "You are everything worth fighting for. Everything I have done right in this lifetime."

Merlin shakes his head but dutifully keeps his eyes on Arthur's, even as tears finally overflow down his temples. Arthur smiles and kisses each one before kissing Merlin's lips.

"I love you," Arthur whispers, and Merlin's voice crumbles as he whispers back brokenly,

"I love you."

"One more time?"

"I _love_ you, you prat."

Arthur laughs and comes and Merlin moans and comes and it's a mess. Across their stomachs, between Merlin's thighs, spilling from his body onto the Table. It's a mess, and Arthur thinks that when they leave, something will be broken and it will leave a mess behind. 

When their days are done, when the Table is dust, maybe then, something will be easy for them.

But until then, Arthur keeps their fingers laced together and kisses Merlin softly.

"I love you too."

**Author's Note:**

> One day, I'll stop ending my fic with allusions to Arthur's death. _One day_.


End file.
